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POEMS. 435
Smoking “dragons” with track of foam
Lash their tails, as snorting they roam
From city to city. But time doth flee;
The sun is setting, the shades grow deep,
The waves are silent, the breezes sleep,
And the barks lie still on the motionless sea ;
The fisherman hastes to his cottage the while
To rest from his toil.
The boats lie empty down by the shore,
The butterfly sleeps in the drooping flower,
Every blade has its pearl of dew,
Night birds fly,
Arches of shadows are flung o’er the sky,
Stars peep forth from the heaven’s deep blue.
Hark! the evening gun
Tells that the day is done;
While the broad moon o’er the glittering tide
Spangles with silver the sails as they glide,
“ God’s peace” proclaiming from shore
O’er Sweden and Denmark for evermore.
Labors are ending!
Slumber descending :
Only yon beacon keeps vigil there —
And the silent prayer.
*MY WRINKLES. a
Ox runes, by time’s unerring chisel graven !
Ye wrinkles slowly gathering round my eyes,
Thanks for the kindly message ye have brought me;
Thanks, for ye wake no terror in my heart.
I know your meaning well; fifll soon, ye whisper,
Old age shall come, with silent footstep stealing,
And then comes death —and it is time to bid
A long farewell to this world’s vanities,
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